


Carefully Planned Downward Spiral

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Smash (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dark little voice inside her head is right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carefully Planned Downward Spiral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FakePlastikTrees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/gifts).



> This is set after 1x09: Hell on Earth. Comments feed the muse – let me know what you think! Enjoy!

_don’t cry again don’t you dare cry_

Ivy lifts her head and blinks, feeling lightheaded and empty. The room spins, which is an exciting new plot development. She’s got nothing, nothing, not a damn thing—nothing but a spinning room and a drug cocktail and an almost empty bottle of booze. It may already be empty; it slipped off the bed at one point, hitting the floor with a thud, and Ivy hasn’t bothered to pick it back up.

_don’t feel sorry for yourself anymore_

She nearly snorts at her internal monologue—why the hell shouldn’t she feel sorry for herself? What else has she got to do? She’s too chicken shit to take another pill or open another bottle. She is miserable, but not _that_ miserable. She may be stupid and depressed but she’s not suicidal. 

_don’t kid yourself, you pill-popping Marilyn-wannabe_

Ivy drops her face back down against her pillow, leaving it there until she can’t breathe. She wishes that she could just sleep, because if she slept, she might be able to wake up from this awful nightmare and find out that her life isn’t actually a string of failures. She might have made it all up…Heaven on Earth, Marilyn, Derek, Karen…

_don’t think about her don’t you dare think about her_

It always comes back to her, in the end. She can’t help herself. She can’t stop herself from thinking about Karen fucking Cartwright, and a carefully planned downward spiral won’t help either. She can’t make it stop and sometimes, she doesn’t really want to. 

_don’t bother thinking you’ve got a chance with her_

Does she want a chance? A chance at what? Killing her? Kissing her? Fighting her? Loving her? Ivy doesn’t know and she doesn’t want to know because knowing would make her accountable for her feelings and her life and she can’t deal with that right now. 

_don’t forget that you’re still dressed in your angel costume_

The dark little voice in her head, which sounds a little too much like Leigh, is right—she can’t pretend that she’s not fully self-aware when she’s still in the costume she jacked from the only acting gig she’s got. She’s a little _too_ aware right now. She’d cringe if it didn’t hurt her head. 

_don’t worry, kid—you’ll feel ten times worse in the morning_

Ivy both yearns for and dreads the morning. She wants to be sober again, wants to wash her face and wash her hands and brush her teeth and return this ridiculous costume. She wants to sleep and forget that she and Karen had an impromptu musical interlude in Times Square. Ivy isn’t even sure that really happened—the Times Square she knows is too busy, overpacked with tourists and mangled, flea-ridden Hello Kitty costumes. Had she really pulled a crowd with Karen, the two of them singing together? Had they really sounded that _good_ together? 

_don’t get your hopes up; it was probably just a pill-and-alcohol-induced hallucination_

Ivy’s sunglasses are on the floor beside the bottle, which is still inside the brown paper bag. It _wasn’t_ a dream. Karen went out of her way to see _her_ , to take care of _her_. Ivy can’t rationalize why the brunette would do such a crazy thing given the way they’ve treated each other, but her mind is foggy enough to entertain the possibility that maybe there is some sort of unspoken, mutual almost-attraction lingering beneath the surface that fuels their tension. 

_don’t go there_

The blonde groans and finally hoists herself up, pulling off her slightly-askew halo. She huffs at her inner voice; she’s Ivy Lynn, and she’ll go wherever she damn well pleases. She begins to strip off her costume, wondering about what it might have been like had Karen stayed. Would they have slept together? Would they have fought? Would Ivy have become vulnerable enough in her intoxicated state to say all the things she shouldn’t? Her heart clenches, and she wishes she’d been given the opportunity.

_don’t get your heart broken_

Naked, drunk, and alone, Ivy laughs miserably to herself. _Too late._

\---


End file.
